Mr Monk and the Unsolved Case
by Ta1u1a
Summary: A case from Monk's past comes back to haunt him. COMPLETE
1. One

The piercing ring of the phone ripped Sharona out of sleep. Not that it had been a sound sleep. She knew who was on the phone, and she contemplated not answering it. She had the flu and she had already called Monk an hour ago to let him know she wouldn't be able to work. He had called four times since then. The phone stopped ringing after the third ring, and for a second she thought that he had finally given up . . . until her son came into the room holding the cordless phone.  
  
"Mr. Monk says he made the coffee the way the instructions said and it doesn't taste like the way you make it," Ben said, knowing that his mother was already extremely annoyed. But Monk had insisted that he ask her.  
  
Sharona buried her face in her pillow for a moment, groaned and then rolled onto her back, holding her hand out while looking up at the ceiling.  
  
"Give me the phone," she said, her voice hoarse from her sore throat. Ben handed her the phone and started to head off. "You hurry and get to school," she called after him. Then she put the phone to her ear. "Adrian, what now?"  
  
"The instructions say 4 heaping tablespoons," he began. "But I did that and it doesn't taste right."  
  
"Why don't you get coffee from that place across the street?" she asked. "You like that place."  
  
"But I like yours better," he said, a reluctant whine to his voice. "And they have a new girl working there in the mornings. I swear I saw her blow her nose and then pour coffee without washing her hands."  
  
"I have the flu," Sharona said sharply. "Believe me. You would rather have that girl make your coffee than me."  
  
"But-"  
  
"No buts, Adrian," Sharona interrupted his protest. "I'm sick, and you don't like sick people. Your head would explode if I came near you today. Go to the coffee shop across the street."  
  
"Can't you just explain to me how you make it?" he asked, not wanting to give in. He knew that girl across the street had made the coffee without washing her hands. He was tempted to call a health inspector.  
  
"No, I can't," Sharona replied. "And if you call me again in less than two hours I'll make you go to that coffee shop for two weeks. Got it?"  
  
There was silence on the other end for a moment and finally he answered disappointedly, "Okay."  
  
"Okay. Bye, Adrian," she said. She heard him faintly say goodbye as she hung up the phone and set it on her nightstand. Then she buried herself deep in her comforter and hoped that Monk would take her threat seriously. Part of her wished she had told him four hours. Because she knew that once two hours had passed he would call her again. She tried to forget that as she slowly fell back asleep.  
  
* * *  
  
He watched from across the street as Ben got on his bike and rode down the sidewalk on his way to school. Sharona's car was still parked in front. He knew that soon after her son left, she usually left to go over to Monk's place. He had actually timed it and found that she left at exactly the same time every day so she would arrive at Monk's the same time every day. That was the thing about Monk. He demanded precision. And somehow he got it from her.  
  
He waited and glanced at his watch. It was 7:30 and she wasn't leaving. Five minutes passed and she still hadn't left. He looked at his watch again and compared it to the dashboard clock, wondering if his watch wasn't working right. But the watch matched the clock. He decided to take a risk and approach the building. He knew something had to be up if she hadn't left yet. So he made his way around, looking through all the windows and also making sure no one saw him doing this. When he got to her bedroom window he saw her. She was lying in bed, wrapped in her comforter. He could see the trashcan by the bed, full of wadded up tissues. She coughed a little bit and then rolled over. He smiled and crept away.  
  
She was sick. This would be a good opportunity. She would be sleeping all day, probably having taken some cold medicine to help her sleep. It would be perfect. Once Ben came home from school he would have his chance.  
  
* * *  
  
Monk crossed the street and entered the coffee shop. Using a wipe to grab the door handle. They weren't very busy at the moment, having not yet hit their breakfast rush. The new girl was behind the counter, chewing bubble gum and reading the front page of the newspaper. She stood up when he approached and folded the newspaper up, placing it on the stool she had been sitting on.  
  
"Can I help you?" she asked, not in a cheerful tone like the girl who had used to work mornings. Monk cringed as she cracked her gum between her teeth.  
  
"One regular coffee, black. Please," he said timidly, watching as she turned to head toward the coffee. "Wait," he called after her and she stopped. She turned around, confused.  
  
"Yes?" she asked, wondering what else he wanted.  
  
"Have you washed your hands recently?" he asked. She looked at him like he had sprouted an extra eyeball in the middle of his forehead.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Have you washed your hands? Isn't it standard health code to wash your hands?" he asked anxiously, pressing the matter further.  
  
"I washed them at the start of my shift," she replied, wondering where this nut job came from.  
  
"And when was that?" he asked.  
  
"An hour ago," she replied. All she wanted to do was get his coffee and get him out of there.  
  
"That's not recent enough," he muttered. "Would you mind washing them again?" She just stared at him. Her stare didn't faze him. All that mattered was that her hands were clean when she handled his coffee. "Or here . . ."  
  
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his package of wet wipes. He held them out to her and she continued to stare. He simply waited for her to take one. Finally she slowly reached forward and pulled one out of the package. He smiled and nodded his head. She began wiping her hands, all the while not breaking eye contact with him. When she thought she was done, she stopped and looked to him for approval.  
  
"That good, sir?" she asked, a twinge of bitterness in her voice. Monk nodded his head.  
  
"Great. Perfect," he responded. "Thank you."  
  
She turned to pour his coffee and he waited, unaware of the person who had been standing behind him until he heard his name spoken.  
  
"Monk."  
  
He turned and was greeted by Captain Stottlemeyer. Monk smiled. "Captain, what are you doing here?"  
  
"Sharona called and told me she had the flu," he replied. "Thought I might check in on you for her."  
  
"That's nice, but you didn't have to do it," Monk said. The girl set his coffee on the counter and he placed the exact amount for the coffee next to it.  
  
"Yes, I did," Stottlemeyer said. "How many times did you call her this morning after she called you to tell you she was sick?"  
  
Monk paused, picked up his coffee and then replied sheepishly, "Five."  
  
"No wonder she called me," Stottlemeyer said. "What were you going to do today?"  
  
"Well, Wednesday is usually grocery day, but Sharona usually drives and the store's too far away to walk . . ." Monk trailed off, not sure what he was going to do for the day. Sharona's flu threw his whole day out of whack. He wasn't good with out of whack.  
  
"All right, well, as insane as I told her she is, my wife volunteered to do whatever you and Sharona would've done today," Stottlemeyer said. "So she can drive you to the store and wherever else you need to go. She'll be by your place in a half hour."  
  
"Oh, I don't know," Monk said, not believing that he would be able to get through the day's schedule with anybody but Sharona. Karen would do things differently.  
  
"It's either sit at home all day and have your weekly schedule thrown off kilter, or it's go to the store with my wife," Stottlemeyer said, knowing the idea of the weekly schedule being thrown off by a day disturbed Monk ten times more than it would any normal person. "Which sounds better to you Monk?"  
  
Monk paused and then tried to force a smile. "A half hour?" Stottlemeyer nodded his head. Monk looked at his watch and calculated a half hour from the current time. "Okay, I'll be waiting."  
  
Stottlemeyer was about to comment that it wouldn't be exactly a half hour, but Monk walked out of the shop before he could say anything. He shook his head and then turned to place his order. 


	2. Two

Monk walked down the aisles of the supermarket, Karen following close behind with the shopping cart. He started with aisle one, grasping his shopping list in his hand and carefully grabbing items from the shelves. Karen just watched as he methodically lined each item up in the cart. They made their way, aisle after aisle until they came to aisle seven. Karen stopped when she looked at the sign proclaiming the contents of this aisle.  
  
"Oh, we can skip this aisle," she said. Monk stopped abruptly and turned to look at her, a shocked look on his face.  
  
"Skip the aisle?" he asked, a twinge of anxiety creeping into his voice.  
  
"Yes, it only has feminine hygiene products," she said, the thought of skipping the aisle making perfect, logical sense to her. She chuckled lightly. "Surely you don't need anything in this aisle."  
  
"I don't, but-"  
  
"So we can skip it," she interrupted. Monk stared at her, then glanced down the aisle, and then went back to staring at her. "Adrian?"  
  
"You want to skip the aisle?" he asked. She nodded her head. Then she was taken aback when he began making this low groaning noise. She looked embarrassed as other people started staring at them.  
  
"Adrian?" she asked. He kept groaning. As more people stared, Karen finally pulled out her cell phone, not knowing what she had done or what she needed to do. She dialed the only person who she knew would know.  
  
"Adrian, I told you two hours," Sharona said sharply, not even bothering to say hello.  
  
"Sharona, I'm so sorry to bother you. It's Karen," she said quickly. "We're at the supermarket-"  
  
Sharona could hear Adrian groaning over the phone and interrupted, knowing exactly what was wrong. "You just hit aisle seven, didn't you?"  
  
"Yes, I told him we could skip it and he started groaning," Karen said frantically. She looked around at all the people staring. "What do I do?"  
  
"You have to go in order. It doesn't matter if he doesn't need anything in the aisle," Sharona explained. "You can't skip an aisle. I made the same mistake the first time we went to the store. The manager kicked us out for making a scene."  
  
"So, if we go down the aisle he'll stop making that noise?"  
  
"Yeah, he will," Sharona assured her. Karen started walking down the aisle.  
  
"Come on, Adrian," she said. "Let's go down aisle seven."  
  
Monk immediately stopped groaning and followed her, breathing a sigh of relief as they went. Karen went back to her cell phone. "Thank you, Sharona."  
  
"No. Thank you," Sharona said. "I owe you one."  
  
Karen hung up the phone and she and Monk continued down the aisle. As they turned to go down aisle eight, Karen looked to him. "Have you ever considered meditation?"  
  
"What?" Monk asked as he reached for some toothpaste.  
  
"Meditation. It can help clear your mind and put you at ease."  
  
"No, I've never tried it," he said. He didn't seem interested in her choice of conversation as he grabbed some deodorant.  
  
"It might help," she offered. He glanced at her, put the deodorant in the cart and continued walking.  
  
"I don't think it would work for me," he said.  
  
"Are you sure?" she asked. "How do you know if you don't try?"  
  
"I don't like new things," he said simply. Karen had a feeling the conversation was over and dropped as they continued through the supermarket. She suddenly had a newfound admiration for Sharona. Any woman who could put up with Monk day in and day out was a saint.  
  
* * *  
  
Sharona woke from a restless sleep when she heard the front door close. She looked at the clock and noticed that it was mid-afternoon and Monk had never called her back. She definitely owed Karen something. She considered sending her some flowers. But she was pulled out of her thoughts when Ben poked his head in the door.  
  
"Hey mom," he said. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Lousy, kiddo," she said. Ben walked further into the room, but he didn't come in too close. He didn't want to catch the flu from her.  
  
"How many times did Mr. Monk call?" he asked with a smile.  
  
"None. It's a miracle," she said, laughing a little. "Captain Stottlemeyer's wife spent the day with him."  
  
"Wow," Ben said, surprised than anybody else could handle a day with Monk. He knew just as well as his mother what a day with Adrian Monk was like.  
  
"Double wow," Sharona added. "How was school?"  
  
"Okay. Nothing special," he said. "Do you want me to get you anything?"  
  
"No thanks," she replied. Then she went into mother mode because she knew she'd be spending most of the night in bed. "There's some spaghetti-o's in the cupboard that you can microwave for dinner. And remember, no TV till you finish your homework."  
  
"Okay," he said. He started to leave the room. She added a couple more instructions.  
  
"That includes video games," she said. He nodded his head and continued to leave. "And in bed by nine."  
  
"Got it mom," he called. He was already in his own room, getting ready to start his homework.  
  
Sharona sat up in bed long enough to take more flu medicine and then she laid back down, hoping that Ben would obey her instructions as she fell into a Nyquil-induced slumber.  
  
* * *  
  
"Now close your eyes and clear your mind," Karen said.  
  
It had taken all of her persuasive powers to get Monk to agree to try meditation. They were sitting on chairs across from each other in his living room. That was an argument she had lost. She had said it was better if they sat on the floor, and he didn't understand why they had to sit on the floor. Couldn't he meditate just as well sitting in a chair? Karen explained it was more relaxing on the floor. And he explained that it wasn't for him.  
  
So in the chairs they sat, Monk had his eyes closed and his hands resting on his knees. Karen was across from him, giving him instructions in a soothing voice.  
  
"Forget everything around you. Just listen to the sound of my voice," she said. Adrian sat calmly, keeping his eyes closed. "Think of a place where you would like to be. It can be a place from your past or a place you've never been to. It can be a place where you think you would be happy." She paused and let him think for a moment. "Where are you?"  
  
"I'm sitting on the couch," he answered. Karen nodded her head in approval.  
  
"And what are you doing?"  
  
"I'm reading a case file."  
  
Karen wasn't quite as approving of that. Generally people didn't picture themselves working during a meditation. "A case file?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Is anyone there with you?" she asked.  
  
"Yes. Trudy," he said. "She's reading a book. A novel by Hemingway."  
  
"And you're both just reading?"  
  
"Yes, until she sees that I'm frustrated with the case," he replied. "Then she lets me lay my head in her lap while she continues reading."  
  
"Is this a memory, Adrian?" Karen asked, touched that he would remember the actual book that Trudy was reading. Karen knew that Trudy had written poetry and had surely read a lot of works by a lot of authors. She was probably reading every night.  
  
"Yes, it is," he said. Then suddenly he opened his eyes. "What's that noise?"  
  
"What noise?" she asked, not sure what he was talking about. She didn't hear anything.  
  
"It's a buzzing noise. Three short buzzes, a pause and then three more short buzzes," he said. He stood to look for it.  
  
"Just ignore it," Karen said. "You were doing well."  
  
"No," he said, distracted. Finally he walked over to her purse, which was sitting on the counter. He touched it and then turned to her. "Your purse is vibrating."  
  
She stood and reached into her purse, pulling out her cell phone. She knew she should have turned it off completely. She answered it to be greeted by her husband.  
  
"Leland, hello," she said. She smiled at Monk as he returned to his chair. "Yes, everything was fine today. No, it wasn't bad at all."  
  
Monk returned the two chairs back to the table and sat on the sofa.  
  
"Okay, I love you, too. I'll tell him. Goodbye." She hung up the phone and returned it to her purse. "Leland says hello."  
  
Adrian nodded his head, and they remained in silence for a moment. Then he broke the silence and stood. "Well, we've done everything on the schedule for today. So, I suppose you can go home."  
  
"You're sure?" Karen asked, not wanting Monk to disturb Sharona if he needed anything after she left.  
  
"Yes, I'm sure," he replied. He opened the door for her and she walked out of the apartment. She turned in the hallway and paused. "Thank you for your help."  
  
"You're welcome, Adrian," she said. "You have a good evening."  
  
"You too," he replied. She turned and walked down the hallway. He waited till she was completely out of sight before he shut the door and went to clean the chair she had been sitting in. 


	3. Three

A stifling sinus headache woke Sharona in the middle of the night. She sat up, coughing a little bit. She took a drink of water and started to lie back down when she heard a noise. It was talking. She looked at the clock, saw it was 3:30 in the morning and headed out of her room to investigate. What she found was the television on in the living room. It was an infomercial about a set of kitchen knives. The lamp beside the couch and the kitchen light were both on. She switched off the television and looked around, confused. She walked down the hall and peeked into her son's bedroom. The bed was still made. A twinge of worry ran through her as she walked back out to the living room.  
  
"Benjy," she called, her voice cracking from not being used for most of the day. She saw a bowl of spaghetti-o's on the coffee table and touched it lightly with her finger. The bowl was full and the spaghetti-o's were cold. She called out again, this time her tone more frantic. "Benjy!"  
  
Hurriedly she moved through the apartment, checking every room and closet and cabinet. Then as she walked back into the living room she saw it. The front door was open a few inches.  
  
"Oh my God," she said under her breath as she ran to the front door. She threw it open and looked around outside. There were no signs of anyone. No strange cars. No people moving about. She turned and ran back inside, heading straight for the telephone.  
  
"Oh my God. Oh my God," she repeated over and over again, panicked tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Finally when the 911 operator picked up she began speaking frantically. "My son is missing. You have to get someone over here. Please."  
  
"Ma'am, I need you to calm down," the operator said. Sharona shook her head and ran her hand through her tangled hair.  
  
"I will not calm down. Did you hear me? My son is missing."  
  
"A police officer is on his way to your home, ma'am," the operator said, still trying to get Sharona to calm down. "When was the last time you saw your son?"  
  
"Um, it was . . . after school. He came home from school," she explained. "I have the flu, and so I was sleeping all night and then I woke up and the TV's on and the spaghetti-o's are on the table and he's gone. Oh my God, if anything happens to him, I don't know what I'll do."  
  
"We're going to do everything we can to help you," the operator said. "What's your son's name?"  
  
"Benjy," Sharona replied. Then she corrected herself. Only family and friends called him Benjy. "Benjamin Fleming."  
  
* * *  
  
An hour later Monk showed up with the captain. Stottlemeyer was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, having just thrown them on once he had heard about Ben being missing. Monk, however, was wearing a neat suit, as if he had known he would have to go at this time. They were allowed into Sharona's apartment once Stottlemeyer flashed his badge. They saw Sharona sitting at the dining room table. She was talking to a uniformed officer, giving her statement. The officer saw the captain and stood, telling Sharona that he would be back in a moment. She nodded her head and just sat there, sniffing because of her flu and her tears.  
  
Stottlemeyer and Monk paused in the middle of the living room. Monk saw how sick Sharona looked and didn't want to take another step toward her. Stottlemeyer noticed this and nudged him.  
  
"I can't go in there," he said. "She's got the flu."  
  
"She needs help, Monk," Stottlemeyer prodded.  
  
"The police are helping her," he replied.  
  
"Not that kind of help," Stottlemeyer added. The officer who had been talking to Sharona stopped next to him, waiting to give him the details. "Go talk to her."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Go." Stottlemeyer shoved Monk forward and he slowly made his way into the room.  
  
Sharona didn't even look up. It was like she didn't notice him. She was too busy staring at the picture of Ben she had taken out to show to the police. It was a school picture. His hair was combed in a weird direction because the school photographers always allowed the students to comb their own hair before getting their picture taken. But Sharona didn't care about Ben's hair. She just wanted her son back.  
  
"Sharona," Monk said quietly, cringing at the sight of the crumpled up tissue in her hand.  
  
She looked up, surprised to see him there. "Adrian, you're in the same room as me."  
  
"Yeah, I am," he said. He moved down to the opposite end of the table and sat down. Just because he had to talk to her didn't mean he had to sit next to her. "How are you holding up?"  
  
"How do you think?" she asked sarcastically. "The police think that Benjy ran away."  
  
"What? Did they say that?" Monk asked, knowing that Ben would never run away. He wasn't unhappy at home. He had no reason to want to leave.  
  
"No, but I know that's what they think," she said. "There was no forced entry. That's what they said. They said nobody broke into the apartment."  
  
"You didn't hear anything?" Monk asked, an obvious question considering she was at home with the flu all day.  
  
"God, I'm a horrible mother!" she exclaimed suddenly. Monk was caught off guard. Sharona had crumbled into tears.  
  
"You're not a horrible mother," Monk said. He wanted to stand and move closer to her, but he couldn't will himself to do it. He was too close to her already. "You're the best mother I know. Benjy loves you, and you love him. And you take care of him all alone."  
  
"I slept through my own son's kidnapping," Sharona argued. "I was right down the hall while someone walked into my apartment and took my son. Doesn't that sound like a horrible mother to you?"  
  
Monk didn't know what to say. Obviously it wasn't a good thing that she slept through it, but it didn't make her a horrible mother. She shook her head and then rested it in the palms of her hands.  
  
"I can't lose him, Adrian. I just can't."  
  
"We'll get him back, Sharona," Monk said. He was already running kidnapping scenarios through his head. "I promise we'll get him back." 


	4. Four

After what seemed like hours the police had finally finished all the forensics work in Sharona's apartment. Stottlemeyer approached Sharona and Monk as all the other police officers left.  
  
"We're pretty much done here, Sharona," he said, feeling deep sympathy for Sharona. He hated when cases got so personal, and he didn't want to think about the statistics. He knew the ratio of missing kids in San Francisco to found kids wasn't very appealing. He just hoped Ben would turn up alive. "We got some prints. Most of them are yours or your son's. Some of them are probably Monk's. We're checking them out." Sharona just nodded her head as he continued. "You should stay here just in case Ben shows up here, or if he calls. Or if the kidnapper calls. I'm going to head back to the station, get Ben's picture passed around and try to nail down some leads. Oh and, uh, I'm sending a guy over to put a tap on your phone. If the kidnapper calls, we'll be able to trace it."  
  
"Thank you," Monk offered, glancing worriedly over at Sharona, who was just staring at the table.  
  
Stottlemeyer nodded his head and turned to go out the door. "I'll be back in an hour or so."  
  
Once he had left it was only Sharona and Monk in the apartment. They just sat in silence for a while, Monk watching Sharona as she continued to stare at the table. He almost thought she was sleeping with her eyes open until she blinked. He decided he had to break the silence.  
  
"Sharona-"  
  
"I need a shower," she interrupted him. She stood and moved quickly to her bedroom. She grabbed her robe and then went into the bathroom without saying another word.  
  
Monk heard the shower come on and he knew she would probably be a while. She had gone into the shower to be alone. So he busied himself by cleaning. Forensics had gotten dust all over the place, and the bowl of spaghetti-o's had bothered him ever since he entered the apartment. He started by using a wipe to grab Ben's backpack and carry it back to his bedroom. He paused as he passed the bathroom door. He could hear Sharona crying. He bowed his head and wished he could just make things right for her. But like everyone else, he had no idea who would want to hurt Ben or Sharona. He didn't have the answer this time. He didn't have the slightest inkling of a suspect. Usually he had something. But this time, when it mattered most, he had nothing.  
  
He hadn't realized how long he had been standing by the bathroom door until he heard the shower shut off and he looked at his watch. She had been in there for 40 minutes, which meant he had been standing there for 40 minutes. He quickly put Ben's backpack in his room and hurried back to the kitchen to start cleaning dishes. She joined him 20 minutes later after changing and making her hair somewhat presentable. For someone who had the flu and whose son had been kidnapped she looked pretty good. He looked up to see her wearing jeans and a blue, long-sleeved shirt. She forced a smile when she saw what he was doing.  
  
"Always cleaning," she said, her voice still scratchy from her sore throat. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and leaned against the counter.  
  
"Yeah," he said. They made eye contact briefly and he went back to scrubbing the same bowl for the fifth time. "Do you feel better?"  
  
"The shower helped," she replied. "I don't feel feverish anymore. Still congested."  
  
Monk continued scrubbing for a moment and then he paused. "So you didn't hear anything?" Sharona looked down at the floor and he tried reassuring her. "I'm not implying that you're a bad mother or anything. Because you're not. I was just . . . I want to make sure I know everything there is to know."  
  
"No, I didn't hear anything," she replied. "I was out cold till I woke up and found out he was gone."  
  
"And you can't think of anybody who would do this?"  
  
"Nobody," she said. She walked across the kitchen and just stared out into the living room. "I mean, there's no one that I know of that doesn't like Benjy or me. His father's a deadbeat but he would never just kidnap Benjy. I just don't know why this is happening."  
  
"You're not a bad mother," Monk said again after a short pause. Sharona turned and smiled a little. He was so sweet, doing everything he could to make her feel better.  
  
"Thanks," she said. They both froze when the phone rang. Sharona quickly set her orange juice on the counter and picked up the phone. "Hello."  
  
"So, you finally woke up, huh?" the male voice on the other end asked. He laughed a little and she knew immediately that he had taken her son. "I knew you were sick, but I didn't think it would really work. I surely thought you would hear something."  
  
"Where's my son?" she demanded, not wanting to take part in his banter.  
  
"Now, hang on a second," he said. "You can't rush these things, Sharona. That's not how this works."  
  
"Look, what do you want from us? I don't have any money," she said.  
  
"I don't want money. Please. Don't you think I'd pick a better target?" he asked. "I'm not stupid."  
  
"Then what do you want?" she asked. She glanced over, seeing that Monk was listening intently to her side of the conversation.  
  
"Revenge."  
  
The click on the other end sounded in her ear and she slowly set her phone down. Monk was waiting for her to tell him what the kidnapper had said.  
  
"He said he wants revenge," she said simply. Monk didn't say anything. He just watched Sharona close her eyes, knowing what she was thinking. Just like him, she was thinking that she would never see her son again.  
  
* * *  
  
Stottlemeyer returned, along with Lt. Disher and a technician to install the phone tap. While that was being done, Sharona described her brief phone conversation with the kidnapper.  
  
"Revenge for what?" Disher asked, not sure what Sharona could have done to anyone to warrant him wanting this kind of revenge.  
  
"I don't know," Sharona said sharply. She blew her nose and Monk cringed from across the room. "Like I've been saying for the last four hours, I don't know."  
  
"You didn't recognize the voice on the phone?" Stottlemeyer asked. Sharona shook her head. "Well, we got four sets of prints. Like we expected, three sets were yours, Ben's and Monk's. We couldn't identify the fourth set. Whoever took Ben doesn't have a police record."  
  
"Do people do that? Do they just pop up and suddenly decide to kidnap someone's kid after leading a completely normal life?" Sharona asked.  
  
"There's some crazy people out there," Disher said. He noticed the technician had finished the phone tap. "We're all set with the tap. Now we'll just have to hope he calls again."  
  
"He'll call again," Monk said. The others waited for him to explain. "Revenge is a game to him. He's toying with her."  
  
The phone rang and they all jumped. Sharona looked to Stottlemeyer who nodded his head. She picked up the phone while the technician started recording the call.  
  
"Hello." She sighed when she heard the voice that responded. "Mom, it's a little early."  
  
"Well, I'm four hours ahead of you," she replied. The technician stopped recording the call. "You can't expect me to always remember time zones."  
  
"What's up mom?" Sharona asked, wanting to get off the phone as quickly as possible.  
  
"You sound sick, or upset. Which is it?" she asked.  
  
"Both," Sharona replied honestly. She took a deep breath and prepared to break the news. "Mom, Benjy's been kidnapped."  
  
"What? How? When?"  
  
"I woke up in the middle of the night and he was gone," she explained. "I have to get off the phone. The kidnapper might call."  
  
"Somebody broke into your home? I told you that you weren't safe there."  
  
"No, they didn't break in."  
  
"What do you mean? How did they get in?"  
  
"I don't know," she replied. "But there was no forced entry."  
  
"You didn't hear anything?"  
  
"No, I didn't," Sharona said sharply. She was getting impatient and she really didn't want to get into this with her mother. "Mom, I've gotta go."  
  
"How could you not hear anything?"  
  
"Mom, please," she pleaded. "I can't tie up the phone."  
  
"Fine," her mother said sharply. "You call me when you know more."  
  
"Okay, mom," Sharona said. "Bye."  
  
She quickly hung up the phone and shook her head. "You know what she's thinking right now? She's thinking, 'How did my daughter turn out to be such a horrible mother?'"  
  
"No she's not," Monk said, defending Sharona from her own self-doubt.  
  
"Yes, she is," Sharona said firmly. "She'll take any chance she can get to be disappointed in me."  
  
"You shouldn't beat yourself up over this Sharona," Stottlemeyer said. "This isn't your fault."  
  
They all looked over when the phone rang again. The technician was ready and gave Sharona the go ahead to answer the phone.  
  
"Hello."  
  
"Hi, Sharona," the kidnapper said with a slight lilt in his voice. "How's it going?"  
  
"What did I do to deserve your revenge?" she asked, wanting to get right to the point.  
  
"It's not what you did, sweetheart," he said. "I'm just using you."  
  
"Let me talk to Benjy. Let me know that he's okay."  
  
"Making demands already? I thought that was my job," he taunted. "You just don't get it do you? The whole point is not knowing. If you knew he was dead, it wouldn't be so hard. At least you could mourn. It's the not knowing. That's what kills you."  
  
"Please, give me my son back," she pleaded.  
  
"Sorry, can't do that," he said. "Is Mr. Monk there?"  
  
Sharona looked over at Monk, wondering why the kidnapper would want know if he was there or not.  
  
"He is," he said. "Get him on the phone. Just remember to disinfect it first."  
  
Sharona pointed to the other phone at the end of the couch. "Adrian, he wants to talk to you."  
  
They all looked confused, but Monk picked up the phone and held it by-but not on-his ear. "This is Monk."  
  
"Well, there you are," the kidnapper said. "It's been so long since I've heard your voice, Monk."  
  
"Do I know you?" he asked.  
  
"Not personally," the kidnapper replied. "We might have met once. Briefly."  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"To make you suffer, Monk. I want you to suffer just like I have," the kidnapper said. He paused for a moment. "Although, I suppose I have made you suffer already."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Monk asked, still confused by what this man had against him.  
  
"I mean, I had intended to get you. You probably figured that out already, but I suppose that would've been too quick for you," he said. "The fact that the bomb got your wife instead was just a pleasant surprise."  
  
Monk's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't believe it at first. Was he really talking to Trudy's killer?  
  
"You're lying," he forced out. He made eye contact with Sharona, who was still listening. Her eyes were wide and she was waiting for him to truly react as she expected him to. "Anybody could have read about my wife's death in the newspaper. Anybody could find out she was killed in a car bomb."  
  
"True. You've got me there, Monk," the kidnapper said. "But could anybody know how the bomb was triggered? That wasn't released to the press was it?"  
  
Monk didn't respond. He remembered exactly how the bomb was triggered. It was very unique. And it was the one thing that hadn't been released to the press.  
  
"I mean, most people set car bombs up and have the trigger in the ignition, or they make it pressure sensitive in the driver's seat. Some people even put the trigger on the gas pedal," the kidnapper said. "But I decided to have a little fun with it. How many people would set the bomb to go off when you turned on the radio? Pretty ingenious, huh?"  
  
"You son of a bitch," Sharona said. She watched as Monk's face tensed and his grip started to loosen on the phone.  
  
"Hey Sharona, no need to get vulgar," the kidnapper said. He directed his next comment to Monk. "At least you know that your wife is dead, Monk. It's the not knowing that kills you."  
  
He hung up at the same time that the phone fell from Monk's hand to the floor. Sharona quickly set her phone down and moved over to him just as he was about to collapse. His breathing was fast and shallow. He was hyperventilating.  
  
"Oh God, Adrian," she said as she did her best to guide him to the couch. Stottlemeyer and Disher were confused. But Sharona wasn't worried about them. She grabbed Monk's wrist and started taking his pulse. "Deep breaths, Adrian. Take slow deep breaths."  
  
"I . . . can't . . ." he said between gasps. "Oh God."  
  
"You have to or you're going to pass out," she said.  
  
"What happened? What did the kidnapper say?" Stottlemeyer asked.  
  
"Trudy . . . God, Trudy . . ." Monk said. He closed his eyes and his breathing was even faster. Sharona was caught off guard. It had been a long time since he had had a panic attack that was this bad. Finally she just grabbed his face and forced him to look at her.  
  
"Adrian, open your eyes and look at me," she said. He complied but his breathing didn't improve. "You need to calm down. Please. Deep breaths."  
  
His breathing slowed a little bit and he spoke slowly. "Sharona . . . you're touching me. You're sick."  
  
She smiled a little and let go of his face. "You're going to be okay." She stood. "Deep breaths. If you feel dizzy, put your head between your knees. I'll get you some water."  
  
Monk nodded his head as his breathing started to return to normal. Sharona headed for the kitchen with Stottlemeyer and Disher following her, waiting for answers.  
  
"The kidnapper is the same bastard who set the bomb in Adrian's car," she said as she pulled a Sierra Springs bottled water out of her fridge. "He killed Trudy." 


	5. Five

They all sat at the dining room table, ready to listen to the latest phone call. Monk was fidgeting with his water bottle. Sharona turned to him with concern before they listened to it.  
  
"Are you sure you want to listen to it again?" she asked.  
  
"I have to. The clues are in what he said," Monk replied. Stottlemeyer was also reluctant to let him listen. Discovering that you were talking to the man who killed your wife wasn't the easiest thing to deal with, especially for Monk. But Monk insisted. "Play it."  
  
Disher hit play and they sat through the call, all of them listening for something to give their kidnapper away. Sharona watched Monk as they got closer to the end. He just closed his eyes and endured it. After it was over, he sat there, thinking it over.  
  
"Play it again," he said. Disher rewound the recording and hit play. Stottlemeyer was listening to the background noise. He hoped there would be something to give away the kidnapper's location. The call had come from a cell phone so they couldn't trace it. But all he heard was cars and the usual city background noises.  
  
Once they had finished listening to it for the second time, Monk opened his eyes as a thoughtful look spread across his face. He had found something. Now he was just working it out in his head.  
  
"It's the not knowing that kills you," Monk said, quoting the kidnapper.  
  
"Yeah, he said that twice," Sharona said, catching onto the pattern. "And he seemed to think you were lucky because you know that Trudy's dead."  
  
"He said that on purpose," Monk said. "He wants me to work through the clues and find him."  
  
"Why would he want you to find him?" Disher asked.  
  
"He's taunting me. He wants to be caught. I'm not sure why," Monk said. Then it hit him. "Missing persons."  
  
"What?" Stottlemeyer asked.  
  
"He didn't have a record because he wasn't a criminal until he killed Trudy," Monk explained. "He was a victim. Or actually, someone he loved was a victim. A missing person that was never found."  
  
"That's why he said that. Because he doesn't know where the person is," Stottlemeyer said. "He doesn't know if they're alive or dead."  
  
"I need to look at all the missing persons cases I worked on while I was on the force where we didn't find the victim," Monk said. "That's where we'll find the kidnapper."  
  
* * *  
  
The four of them were going through stacks of case files, trying to refresh Monk's memory and hope he could find their kidnapper by digging through the past.  
  
"Melissa Jenkins. Twenty-three, senior in college, missing since 1992. No suspects," Sharona read from a case file. Monk shook his head.  
  
"No, that's not it," he said.  
  
"How do you know?" Stottlemeyer asked. "Any of these cases could be the one."  
  
"No, there has to be something that I did or didn't do that caused this," Monk said. "I'll know it when I hear it."  
  
"Jordan Mueller. Three-years-old, taken from his back yard, no suspects," Stottlemeyer read. Monk shook his head.  
  
"This case had a suspect," he said. Sharona was about to ask him how he knew that, but she knew she wouldn't get a decent answer.  
  
"Casey Ellerbeck. Thirteen-years-old, never came home from school on September 3, 1991, missing ever since," Disher read. He waited for a response from Monk, but he got none. "Suspect identified as Stanley Sharp. Killed in police raid. Victim never found."  
  
"Stanley Sharp," Monk said. "I shot him."  
  
"It was a clean shoot, Monk. He came charging at you with a shotgun," Stottlemeyer said. "I remember that case. Wasn't Casey's father on the force?"  
  
Disher looked through the file and nodded his head. "Michael Ellerbeck. He quit shortly after Sharp died. San Francisco PD." He paused and his eyes widened. "He was on the bomb squad."  
  
"That's him," Monk said confidently. "He's the one."  
  
"Are you sure?" Sharona asked.  
  
"I'm positive," he replied. He looked to Stottlemeyer. "Ellerbeck's fingerprints from his employment file will match up with that fourth set of fingerprints."  
  
"You think he was careless enough to leave his prints?" Disher asked.  
  
"He wasn't careless. He left them on purpose," Monk said. "He wants to be caught." 


	6. Six

As Monk had predicted, Ellerbeck's prints matched up with the fourth set from Sharona's house. Further research led them to Ellerbeck's last known residence. Monk and Sharona were both exhausted—Monk from his panic attack; Sharona from her lingering flu and worry over Ben—but they had insisted on joining Stottlemeyer and Disher when checking out the address. They were greeted at the door by a young man of about 22 years of age.

"Yeah?" he asked abruptly.

"I'm Captain Stottlemeyer with the San Francisco Police. I was hoping you could tell me where to find Michael Ellerbeck."

"I'm Michael Ellerbeck," the young man said, wondering what the police would want with him.

"Um, we're looking for Michael Ellerbeck Senior," Disher said. "The one who used to be on the police force eleven years ago."

"That's my dad, but he's not here," Michael said. He turned when a woman's voice called from another room.

"Mikey, who is it?" she asked.

"It's the police," he shouted back. She emerged from a back room and joined him at the door, confused. "They're looking for dad."

"Ma'am, I'm Captain Stottlemeyer. This is Lt. Disher, Adrian Monk and Sharona Fleming," Stottlemeyer said, introducing everyone. "We believe Mr. Ellerbeck is involved with a case we're currently working on."

"Can we come in?" Monk asked. "We need to ask you some questions about your husband."

"Ex-husband," she corrected. She stepped aside. "Come in."

She led them all into the living room and motioned for them to have a seat. Sharona and Stottlemeyer sat on the sofa. Disher chose an armchair next to the sofa. Monk chose to remain standing on one side of the fireplace. Michael leaned against the doorway to the kitchen while his mother sat in a rocking chair on the opposite side of the fireplace from Monk.

"So what do you want to know about Mike?" she asked.

"You referred to him as your ex," Monk said. He fidgeted with a picture frame on the mantle. "When did you get divorced, Mrs. Ellerbeck?"

"Please, call me Mary. And it was seven years ago," she said. "It took a while to go through. He left us after Casey disappeared. I had to declare him missing and wait for that to run its course before I could get a divorce."

"He flipped out," Michael added. His mother shot him a look. "What? He did, and you know it mom. That's why he left."

"Casey was his little girl," Mary said. "When she was taken he was devastated. Then after the man who took her was killed, he broke down. He quit the police and would hide himself away in Casey's room. He hated it when anybody else went in there and he refused to take any of her stuff out of there."

"Before he left, did he mention my name to you at all?" Monk asked. He pulled out a wipe and started using it to dust the mantle. He stopped when he caught Sharona shooting him her patented 'knock it off' glare.

Mary nodded her head. "He said that you were the one who shot Casey's kidnapper."

"He blamed you for her never being found," Michael said.

"I'm sorry," Monk said, seeing the look of sadness on both Mary and Michael's faces.

"No, it's not your fault, Mr. Monk," Mary said. "Believe me, I was a police officer's wife for seventeen years. I know you were just doing your job."

"Like I said, dad flipped out," Michael said. "He was too upset to think clearly about anything."

"What case do you think Mike's involved in?" Mary asked, curious as to why people were asking so many questions after so many years.

"We think he set up the car bomb that killed my wife," Monk replied.

"And that he kidnapped my son last night," Sharona added.

"Oh my God," Mary said. "I don't know if Mike would be capable of murder."

"I do," Michael said. Mary shot him a look. "Mom, you loved him too much to see it. He was whacked out. There were times when I heard him talking in Casey's room, except he wasn't even talking to himself. It was like he was holding a conversation with Casey."

"I didn't know," she said. "It's just so hard to believe that he could do these things."

"Do you have any idea where he might be?" Stottlemeyer asked. Mary shook her head.

"Didn't he have that cabin, mom?" Michael asked. "Or did he sell that? He and some of his friends from the force would go up there and play poker. I remember that much. He took me up there once."

"I forgot about that," Mary said. "I've only been there once myself. I don't think he sold it."

The conversation stopped when Sharona's cell phone rang. She answered it quickly.

"You left the house, Sharona," the kidnapper said. "That can only mean one thing. You know who I am."

"Michael Ellerbeck," Sharona said cautiously. Everyone watched her as she spoke. "How'd you get my cell phone number?"

"Kudos to you and Mr. Monk!" he exclaimed with a laugh. "I knew you'd figure it out. As for the cell phone, I got that the same way I got your son. Walked right into the apartment." Sharona didn't respond. "Let me guess. You're talking to my wife and son right now and they're telling you all my secrets."

"We know where you are," Sharona said, bluffing slightly. They all guessed he was at the cabin, but they couldn't be sure.

"They told you about the cabin, huh?" he asked. "Well, that's nice of them, but don't bother coming here. I'm in and out. I'd like to arrange a meeting. You, Mr. Monk and me. Tomorrow at 1 pm. Come early and Benjy dies. Come late and Benjy dies."

"What happened to your daughter wasn't our fault. It wasn't Adrian's fault," Sharona said, her voice pleading with him. "Please, just let my son go. Don't make me go through what you went through."

"Sorry, Sharona," Ellerbeck said. For a second, she thought he sounded sincere. Then he hung up.

She put her phone back in her purse and saw all eyes were on her. "He wants us to meet him at the cabin, Adrian."

"My God," Mary said. "It really is Michael. I can't believe he would murder anyone."

"Well, hopefully we can keep him from murdering a second person," Stottlemeyer said. He stood and the others followed suit. "We'll need directions to that cabin."

A/N: I have the next part done, but I decided to make some changes to it. Sorry. You'll have to wait in suspense. Bwahahahaha!


	7. Seven

The next day Sharona and Monk headed up to the cabin, followed by Stottlemeyer, Disher and four squad cars. Ellerbeck hadn't really specified that they come alone. They weren't going to let him get away. They had to get Ben back soon. The longer Ellerbeck had him, the more danger he was in.

The two of them got out of Sharona's car and walked up the porch steps. Stottlemeyer, Disher and the eight police officers got out of their cars and stood in wait, most of them with their hands resting on their guns. Sharona and Monk hesitated and then Sharona knocked on the door.

"Come in," Ellerbeck called. Sharona slowly pushed the door open and the two of them walked in. The room was dim, but not too dark to see in. Ellerbeck was standing near the fireplace. Sharona closed the door and she and Monk approached him. That's when he raised his arm and pointed his gun at them. They stopped walking. "That's close enough, thank you."

"Where's my son?" Sharona asked, looking around the room.

"You still don't get it, do you?" Ellerbeck asked. "I thought you were smarter than that. I guess being a parent kind of puts blinders on your brain sometimes."

"Why did you want to meet with us if you're not going to let Benjy go?" Monk asked.

"You're a smart man, Monk. Figure it out," he said.

"I'm sorry about what happened to your daughter," Monk said, not really wanting to apologize to the man who murdered his wife. "I wish I could have found her."

"You killed Sharp before anybody had a chance to ask him one simple question," Ellerbeck said angrily. His voice was getting louder and filled with rage. "You don't fire until fired upon!"

"He was charging at me with a shotgun," Monk said. "I had no choice. I'm sorry."

"Too late for sorry, Monk," he said. "It's the not knowing that kills you. Because of you nobody will ever know what happened to my daughter." He paused and glanced at the gun. "And because of you nobody will ever know what happened to Sharona's son."

"No!" Monk and Sharona both shouted as he brought the gun up to his right temple and pulled the trigger. 

The shot rang out before either of them could even take one step. Sharona turned away as the bullet literally exploded out the left side of Ellerbeck's head. He fell to the floor with a hollow thud. Moments later, Stottlemeyer, Disher and the eight police officers came rushing into the cabin with their guns drawn. They all stopped when they saw Ellerbeck lying on the cabin floor.

"What happened?" Stottlemeyer asked.

Monk was staring at the floor, not able to bring himself to look at Ellerbeck or anything else. "He killed himself."

"What?" Stottlemeyer asked, more confused than ever. "What the hell did he do that for?"

"To make us feel what he felt," Monk said. He finally turned and looked to Sharona, who was standing completely still with her eyes closed. "Sharona, I'm sorry."

She shook her head and wiped at her eyes. "Don't be sorry, Adrian," she said, her voice wavering as she tried to push her emotions back. She made eye contact with him and gave him a determined stare. "Sorry doesn't help me find my son."

There was silence for a moment and then Stottlemeyer jumped in. "Okay, everybody fan out. We've got a boy to find. Search everywhere. Closets, cupboards. Inside, outside. Gopher holes, rabbit holes, snake holes. If you think you've looked somewhere already, look again. Nobody leaves here until we find him." The police officers spread out and Stottlemeyer turned to Lt. Disher. "Randy, call in the coroner. We need to get Ellerbeck out of here."

Once everybody had their orders, Sharona and Monk headed outside the cabin and toward the side. The police officers were calling Ben's name, hoping he would hear them and call back. Sharona knew that would be the best-case scenario. She didn't want to think about the worst-case scenario.

"Benjy!" she called. Monk walked along silently a few feet away from her. "Benjy, it's mom! Can you hear me?"

Sharona stopped walking when she noticed Monk had started moving in a different direction. She turned and saw him staring at the ground several feet away. "Adrian, what are you doing?"

"This area of dirt has been disturbed," he said, pointing to an area of bare soil.

"So?" she asked.

"Look all around," Monk said. "There's weeds and plants everywhere except this spot. Here the ground has been disturbed, as if it was recently placed here. Like filling in a hole."

Lt. Disher had finished calling for the coroner and noticed Monk and Sharona looking down at the ground. "Did you find something?" he asked once he had jogged over to them.

Monk's face paled and he didn't want to say what he had to say. "I think I found Benjy."

Sharona and Disher looked at him for a moment before they both realized what Monk was talking about.

"Oh God, no!" Sharona exclaimed.

Disher quickly took off his suit jacket and tie as he moved toward the cabin. "Officer Lopez," he called to a nearby police officer. Disher grabbed some shovels that were leaning on the side of the cabin. He handed one to Officer Lopez and the two of them went back to the spot Monk had found. They both began digging quickly. Stottlemeyer saw them digging from inside the cabin and his heart sank. He watched Sharona pace nervously behind Monk, who was just watching as the two men dug into the ground.

It seemed like forever. Disher wished they had a backhoe. His shoulders were aching, but he knew they couldn't stop digging. Sharona was still pacing behind Monk.

"Oh God. Oh God," she kept muttering under her breath. Ellerbeck was right, not knowing was torture. But this was even worse. She knew, but she didn't know. Finally she stopped pacing and looked over when she heard a thud. Disher's shovel hit something.

"Stand back, Lopez," Disher said. He wedged his shovel under a piece of wood that was holding several other planks of wood down. Then he turned and pried a piece up at the other end of the wooden box they were standing on. Officer Lopez climbed out and took pieces of wood as Disher handed them to him. Sharona knelt by the edge of the deep hole and looked down. She tried not to scream when she saw her son lying there in the ground. His face was pale and his lips were blue. Disher quickly grabbed him and pulled him up. Lopez grabbed Ben's arms and dragged him up. That's when Sharona went into nurse mode.

His whole life, the worst thing that had ever happened to Ben was when he broke his arm falling off his bike. Even in her worst nightmares, Sharona had never thought she would have to use her nursing expertise for this. She knelt next to Ben and checked for a pulse. She couldn't stop a few tears of relief that slipped by when she found one. She just had to get him to breathe. She cleared the dirt off his face and made sure his airway was unobstructed before she began giving him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. 

The other officers and Stottlemeyer had joined them and were all watching as Sharona tried to save her son's life. Ben had his own little cheering squad, with all of them muttering "Come on, Ben" or "Breathe, kid." The most audible was Monk, who kept saying "You can do it, Benjy."

_Please, God,_ Sharona thought to herself as she continued. _Please don't take him away from me._

As if God had answered her silent prayer, Ben suddenly took a breath. He coughed and gasped, trying to get air. Sharona couldn't keep herself from bursting into tears as she turned Ben onto his side to help him breathe. All the officers cheered and applauded.

"That's it, baby," Sharona said through her tears of relief. She stroked Ben's hair and then rested her hands on his shoulder. "You're okay."

Monk smiled and crouched down next to Sharona and Ben. He placed a hand on Sharona's shoulder. She looked up and smiled, wiping at the tears flooding down her cheeks.

"Thank you," she said to him gratefully. He looked confused. "Nobody else would have noticed that dirt. We never would have found him without you."

Monk just smiled and watched as Ben began to breathe easier. He was just thankful he hadn't lost anyone else he cared about.

* * *

The breeze blew through the cemetery and rustled the leaves, creating dancing shadows on the tombstones in mid-afternoon. Monk stopped and stood in front of one tombstone while Sharona and Ben stood back to give him some privacy. He reached forward with a wipe and tried to wipe some dirt out of the cracks of Trudy's name, which was engraved in bronze. After he felt it was sufficiently clean he stood upright again and cleared his throat.

"I never thought it would happen," he said, talking to Trudy as if she were really there. "Your killer came to me. I guess I can understand going crazy over losing someone you love." He smiled. "Sharona would say that's an understatement. I just wish there was some way I could go back and change things. If I hadn't shot Sharp, maybe you'd still be alive. Benjy wouldn't have been hurt." He glanced over his shoulder at Sharona and Ben. "But it's a Catch 22 really. I wouldn't know them if you were alive because I wouldn't have needed a nurse. I guess I shouldn't think about it, right?" He paused to lean over and brush a leaf away from the tombstone.  "At least I won't feel guilty when I see you again. Your case is solved." He stepped back a little, preparing to leave. "I love you."

He turned and walked over to Sharona, who was standing with her arm around Ben's shoulders. She smiled sympathetically and asked, "You ready to go?"

He nodded his head and then jumped back almost an entire foot when Ben sneezed. Sharona reached into her purse and pulled out a tissue for her son.

"Geez, I gave you my flu, didn't I?" she asked him. Ben blew his nose loudly and Monk felt like crawling out of his own skin.

"It's okay," Ben replied with a smile. "You were saving my life when you did it."

Sharona smiled back at him and gave his shoulders a squeeze. But then she noticed Monk was clearing his throat repeatedly. He looked extremely uncomfortable. He started tugging at the collar of his shirt.

"Adrian, are you okay?" she asked with genuine concern.

He shook his head. "It's just . . . my throat, it's scratchy. And I feel a little congested."

Sharona shook her head, thinking she should've seen this coming. "Come on," she said as she tugged on Monk's arm and led the way back to the car. "We'll go home, and I'll make you both some chicken noodle soup."

"With real chicken and real noodles?" Monk asked. Sharona shot him a confused look.

"What? As opposed to fake chicken and fake noodles?" she asked sarcastically.

"Well, you're going to make it from scratch right?" Monk asked. "Not canned."

"Would you like me to grow the vegetables and raise the chicken, too?"

"I would," Ben chimed in with a smirk.

"Don't encourage him," Sharona scolded. Ben just smiled and the three of them headed off to have their homemade chicken noodle soup while Monk continued to complain about his flu symptoms.

THE END

_A/N: Again, thanks for the reviews. I'm glad you enjoyed it. I've already got another fic idea in mind, with a special "guest star." ;o)_


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